


The Accounting

by DracoBlue (bleukittie)



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Gen, Highlander Reference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-09
Updated: 2011-04-09
Packaged: 2017-10-17 19:45:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/180534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleukittie/pseuds/DracoBlue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Methos meets his counterpart over time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Accounting

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s note: No one knows how long an immortal is “dead” in a non-permanent death. For the purposes of this story, I assume Methos is seriously incapacitated, enough so his body takes a little while to heal before he revives.

Troy, shortly after Helen’s rescue...

“Methos, Methos”, said the Lord of the Underworld, “we meet again. What have you learned since we last met?”

The young immortal was confused. Usually, after he “dies” he remembers nothing, certainly had not seen the tall, dark Hades before. “ What do you mean, what have I learned?” Methos asked. “You’ve seen my life; I travel, I conquer, I take what I need and be damned to anyone who tries to stop me.

“Then you haven’t learned much” replied Hades, “You’re time to live in the Underworld has not come.”  
With this the god disappeared. And Methos was returned to the carnage of Troy.

 

Rome, in the time of the Ceasars

“What have you learned this time?” Asked the dark figure before him. The scene was a familiar one to Methos. The Phantom (so he believed) was before him, dressed in black robes and carrying a sword. Pluto was looming over Methos, looking at the recently deceased immortal as impassionatly as he looked at all creatures made of flesh and blood.

“That’s a bit different” Methos thought, “ he’s carrying a sword.” He rose slowly to his feet, and pulled in a deep breath to reply. “Don’t you ever have anything original to say?” He asked the god.

“No, not really. I’ve seen every sentient being since the beginning of time, and I’ve usually been disappointed in them. Surprise me, Methos, What have you learned this time?”

“Not to eat those damn mushrooms without looking at them before their cooked!!! Methos retorted, and was promptly pulled back in to his body, the strange conversation wiped from his memory.

 

Rome, 1783

“And what have you learned this time? “ Methos heaved a great sigh, tired of the never-ending repetition of the question. He had heard it so often, sometimes it haunted his dreams. When he awoke from his dreams, he knew he had heard a voice from his past, one that was as deathless as he was. This was not a dream now; the skeletal Grim Reaper was implacable as death itself, and as stubborn and as any mule alive. Far better for him to answer, sooner rather than later, knowing he would not be released back to his life until the answer satisfied his interrogator.

“I have learned that greed, violence, hate, ignorance, and fear are far greater terrors than you or I could ever be, yet mankind refuses to see past their own mortality. So I despair of them”.

“Foolish mortal”, said the Reaper, “you learn so slowly, I have almost given up on you. See if you can do a better job next time.” And with that the specter sent Methos’ spirit back to his healing body.

 

New Orleans, 1820

“Oh no, not again!!” Thought Methos, “ just once I would like to die for a while and not get interrogated!” But the figure before him was not like the Specter of Death he had seen before. The specter was not as gaunt, the attire was midnight blue, not black, and the sword was gone, replaced by a set of dueling pistols.

“What have you learned, Methos? asked Death. He was patiently waiting; knowing Methos had learned the folly of taunting him.

“What’s the point of this, Death? Is it to torment me until I lose my mind? Sorry, the past which lives in my memory is far better in tormenting me than you could ever be.”

“I’m more reliable than your memory, Methos. I remember when your ancestors crawled out of the oceans onto land. I forget nothing, I see everything. What have you learned?”

Methos sat up, scowled at Death, then thought quickly. He replied “To take happiness where it is offered, to heal when necessary, to listen to the wind and to feel the warmth of the sun, because tomorrow I may die.”

“Better, but not quite good enough, besides you’ve been dead more often than any other immortal” laughed Death, “off you go…”

 

Paris, 1995

“You think I would be accustomed to this by now” groused Methos as his consciousness looked around. His clothes were seemed to be soaked from the dunking in the Seine he took while escaping Kalas. The great beyond had a bit of light shining from a far distant sun. It was not enough to dry clothes, but enough to see the figure before him.

The Angel of Death walked toward him, dressed in light colored robes and carrying a candle.

“You’ve changed Death”, commented Methos. “I didn’t know you had it in you”

“That’s strange, Methos, I was thinking the same about you. What have you learned this time?”

Methos groaned then quoted Shakespeare. “ To thine own self be true and it follows that…” at this the angel laughed. “Come, Methos, surely you can do better than that! Where are the scathing insights about life and mankind that you prattle so well?”

“Gone, Death. I've given up. I’ve had enough. I want a long vacation far away from the gathering and very far away from the life and memories that I have. Any chance I’ll get one soon?”

“Slim to none, ancient one. May the force be with you.” With that, the angel disappeared.

 

Seacouver, 2010

“This is definitely getting strange.” Methos was lying in a large grassy field, surrounded by scented flowers. He knew he had died, but not permanently. His head was still attached back in the “real world”.  
He saw a woman walking toward him; she looked like someone he knew sometime in his long life. But he had known so many women; sometimes his memory of them tended to blur together.

“Hello, Methos, What have you learned this time?” The spirit spoke kindly.

Another change, thought Methos, what can be next? Drinks on the verandah? “I've learned nothing, Angel of Death. Everything I knew is no longer of value and the world changes too fast even for an immortal to adjust. I admire my friends, I trust one, two, maybe three people. I love my books, and I like to teach. I appreciate good drink at the end of the day and a glass of beer anytime. I find brooding about the past is boring and I even respect the rest of the human race sometimes. But tell me Angel, is there really a prize for the winner of the Game?”

“What do you think Methos? Is the Game so different than any other endeavor? Some people win, some lose, but every one gets as many chances as they need to get it right. When you do Ancient One, you won’t have any questions and you’ll know what the answer to my question is. You’ll attain what you have always desired though you don’t know what that is. Keep searching, Methos, you’ll find out what I mean. I have faith in you.

 

Methos awoke, again in the reality he had known for more than 5000 years…

 

The End


End file.
